In Honor of the First Snowfall of the Season

I sit here in an armchair, occasionally glancing to the window when I can’t think of anything else to write.  As the seasons change, so do I.  So do we all.

Spring represents rebirth, a beginning, new life.  The temperature begins to warm up, pink blossoms and green leaves pop out of completely empty branches.  The grass makes a reappearance.  People are more inclined to head outdoors.  Birds return, and their twittering fills the day.

Summer represents life to the fullest.  It’s the time to do things that are fun.  Be outside, go to the pool, eat ice cream, drink lemonade on a shady porch, fall in love.  It’s that time of the year when life is supposed to be felt in every fiber of your being.

Autumn represents an ending, as you’re packing up your bags and making sure everything’s in order.  The leaves change and relinquish their hold on the branches they’ve dearly loved.  The temperature begins to cool down, and everything starts to take on a more depressing tone.

Winter represents death and misery at its finest.  It’s cold and snowy and inconvenient.  It’s beautiful, that’s for sure, but completely useless.  Everything gets wet, nothing grows, everything dies.  The sun rarely shines, and if it does, it blinds you as it reflects off the snow.  It’s pretty, but cold.

Those are the generic representations of the seasons--the way they’re portrayed in poems or stories, and most people are inclined to agree.

I think every single one of those is wrong.

Spring to me is death and misery at its finest.  The weather is either perfect or crappy at either extreme.  Pollen is everywhere, and it wreaks havoc on my nose, throat, ears, and eyes.  To me, it symbolizes the end of all that’s good in this world and marks the beginning of terrible things.

Summer is just plain awful.  There is absolutely nothing good about it.  It’s hot, humid, sticky, gross, smelly, and uncomfortable.  I don’t know why winter symbolizes death because things still die in the summer, and they die in pain.  And I don’t know how anyone could possibly fall in love when they’re bitter.

Autumn is a glorious season.  It’s a sweet release from the terrible heat of the previous months.  It’s the ultimate time to be doing fun things because you can be outside without dying from heat or allergies.  Things feel like they’re slowing down, and going out is a pleasant experience.

Winter is the best season of all.  Snow is a blessing from heaven itself.  The color scheme and frozen water patterns are more than just “pretty.”  And if you’re looking for a “romantic” season, I think it should be winter because you actually have to seek for warmth.  People actually look out for each other.
Anyway...just in case you were curious.
"So count your blessings every day. It makes the monsters go away. And everything will be okay.
"You are not alone. You are right at home. Goodnight."

Halloween Movies

     All right, I think we're late enough into October that this post is now pretty relevant.
     I really like Halloween, but only up to a point.  I like fun Halloween, not disturbing Halloween.  Dancing skeleton decorations in the window?  Wonderful.  Skeletons with bloody teeth and horrifying grimaces?  Not wonderful.  Little kids dressed as characters from action movies?  Love it.  Little kids with fake gash wounds?  Not so much.
     That being said, that doesn't mean that I don't like scary things.  I just don't like murder being glamorized is all.
     By far, my favorite part of Halloween is watching scary movies.  Unfortunately, I also have a very low tolerance for scary movies.
     A year and a half ago, my parents, my sister, and I watched The Visit.  None of us had ever seen it before, but we're fans of M. Night Shyamalan movies, so we figured it was worth a shot.
     By the end, I think I would've liked to have been shot.
     If you're really into horror movies, you're probably thinking, "The Visit is nothing!  That's hardly scary at all!"
     Well, for me, it was the most traumatic experience of my life.  At one point in the climax, it pans over to a crazy woman looking straight into the camera.  It wasn't a jump scare or anything, but I screamed and then proceeded to cry for pretty much the rest of the movie.
     I don't know, I just could not handle watching it.
     I should probably tell you now that if you're absolutely in love with horror movies and are completely unfazed by the content in them, you should probably stop reading now because my repertoire of scary movies is significantly less than that, and I can already feel your judgment emanating through the computer screen.
     So, what scary movies do I like?
     Just a bit of backstory: In my family, there are certain Halloween movies that we watch every year, and you get introduced to one more each year.  At some point around age twelve (or earlier), it starts with Something Wicked This Way Comes.  I know, I know, it's not that scary of a movie.  But it's preparation.  There are creepy people who like to do creepy things, and there are often some disturbing circumstances.
     Then, it really starts at age thirteen, when we're shown The Sixth Sense.  And if you don't think that's a scary movie, there is something seriously wrong with you.  Yeah, it's not as scary as other movies, but it's definitely not a movie you can just laugh off.
     I remember the first time I watched it--little thirteen-year-old Odessa, sitting on the floor of my parents' room, watching this movie that was unlike anything I'd ever seen before.  And I liked it.  I really, really liked it.  I still do to this day.  When I was fourteen, we didn't watch it for some reason or another.  When I was fifteen, I ended up watching it three times (once with my parents and sister for her first time, once with the same sister and her friend, and then once at my friend's house).  And then last year, I watched it once with my sister.  Now, my brother is thirteen, so we'll probably be watching it with him either this weekend or next.
     So, yeah...The Sixth Sense.  I highly recommend it.  It doesn't scare me as much now, but there's still that suspense that I love.
     When I was fourteen, my parents showed me Signs.  Again, it's probably not considered that scary of a movie, but the first time I watched it, the suspense was almost overwhelming.
     Again, the first time I watched it, I was sitting on the floor of my parents' bedroom, and I was a little more freaked out (I really don't know why).  At one point, during a very quiet part of the film, the suspense was kind of building, but not too badly.  I looked down at my popcorn bowl for a moment, and as soon as I looked up, there was a jump scare.  It wasn't even that bad of one, but just the timing of it made me jump about a mile high.
     We didn't watch it when I was fifteen, and then last year, we watched it for my sister's first time (but we watched it in July for some weird reason).  In case you were worried, the jump scare didn't get me the second time around.  I love Signs even more than The Sixth Sense.
     Like I said, we watched it in July last year, which I was kind of confused about, but I ended up not minding too much when I realized that the date on the plaque of Merrill's baseball bat was the date we were watching it.
     Coincidence?  Probably.
     When I was fifteen, my parents showed me The Village, which did not freak me out as much as I was expecting.  Oh, it had its moments for sure, I will not deny that.  We didn't watch it last year.  (Are you sensing a trend here?)  My parents, my sister, and I watched this one a couple weeks ago for my sister's first time.
     I absolutely love The Village.  Love it, love it, love it.  I love the story, and I absolutely adore the characters.  I don't know, it just really strikes a chord with me.
     Last April was when we watched The Visit, but I don't count that because I try to forget that that movie exists.  So, the new Halloween movie that I watched last year was Poltergeist, which I watched at a friend's house for a Halloween party.  My parents have seen it previously, but they've kind of distanced themselves from it since having kids because it kind of hits a little too close to home.
     Poltergeist was not my favorite, mostly because the little girl reminds me too much of my youngest sister.  Overall, I liked it.  There was one scene, though, that really disturbed me, and has kind of ruined me from ever wanting to watch it again.  (If you have seen it, it's the scene at the bathroom sink.)  While watching it, I wanted to look away, but I was completely frozen in terror, and once it ended, I don't think I could form coherent sentences.  It is probably the most disturbing movie scene I've ever watched before in my life.
     Then, last night we watched Shaun of the Dead.  I actually rather enjoyed it, and I think I laughed harder than I should have.  (If you're terribly concerned, we watched it edited.  If the fact that it was edited concerns you, sucks to suck.)  I don't know, I think it was too funny for me to take seriously, which is probably a good thing, as we've seen from my experiences with movies.
     Well, there you go.  I hope that was enlightening.
     "So count your blessings every day.  It makes the monsters go away.  And everything will be okay.
     "You are not alone.  You are right at home.  Goodnight."

If It Ever Gets Too Dark to See

     Listen up.
     I know that there's a lot of bad in the world.  Trust me, I know.  I read and see all the terrible things that people do on a daily basis.  And I'm only reading about a small portion of it, I'm sure.
     It's really easy to look around and say that life kinda sucks.
     And maybe we're perfectly justified in saying so.  It almost seems insensitive to not admit that there are some serious issues in this world.
     What makes it worse is that there's no agreed way to fix any of it.  Any of it.  So we're just stuck on some sort of psychotic, disgusting merry-go-round, spinning at dizzying speeds in horrendous directions, doomed to be glued to our seats for the rest of our lives, right?
     Wrong.  Very, very wrong.
     I'm not going to say what I think we need to do to change, because I've already mentioned that I don't write about that sort of stuff.  This is a safe place, remember?  This is a place where I don't care what gender, race, religion, or whatever you are.  What good does that do?  We all read the same.
     So, set down whatever burden you're carrying right now.  Go ahead, put it down.  Kick it away if you need to.  I don't want you to think about it.  I don't care what it is, just let go of it for a few minutes.  Don't think about everything going wrong in your life.  Don't worry about what might happen to you within the next few days, weeks, months, or years.  Just focus on what you're doing right now, which is reading this blog.
     I want you to think about your favorite song.  Just pick one.  One song that has struck a chord in your heart every time you've listened to it.  If it has lyrics, think about them.  Hum the tune.  If you can, think about the first time you heard it.  How did you feel?  Why did you like it?  What made you go out and find it again?  Did it just happen by pure happenstance?
     Now think of your best friends in the world.  I don't care how many you come up with.  Think of them smiling and laughing.  Remember all the little habits they have, all those little things they do that make you so grateful for their friendship.  Think of how you met each of them, and what made you come back for more.
     If you're by a window, look outside.  What do you see?  Do you see trees, as I do, with their green leaves slowly giving way to yellow in the autumn air, with the houses of the neighborhood in a solid line that covers the distant land?  Do you see tall grass, swaying gently in an October breeze, the ripples brushing across in a tantalizing pattern?  Do you see mountains in the distance, standing stronger than even the most well-built house?  Do you see a bustling city, with cars going to and fro, people continuously moving?  Do you see a quiet street, with the occasional stray cat roaming about on the dim streets?  Is it something else entirely?
     In a moment, I want you to go outside.  I mean it!  Once this paragraph is done, go outside!  Leave your computer or phone or whatever you're reading this off of right where it is, then stand up and head out the door.  Bring shoes if you must, but no jackets (even if it's freezing).  Go outside, look up at the sky (but please don't look right at the sun if it's out), and lift your arms.  (Please, just trust me.)  Taste the air.  Notice each sound.  Close your eyes, if you'd like.  Imagine flying right up into that beautiful sky--whether it's blue, grey, black, or otherwise.  Imagine leaving all your cares and worries and frustrations right there on the ground.  Don't worry about other people seeing you--nothing they think matters.  They're worried about life, but you're taking a break from it.  Get going!
     Welcome back.  Chances are, there are several of you that didn't even move from your seat.  Fine by me, but just keep quiet while I talk to those who followed directions for a moment, okay?
     How did you feel?  Foolish?  Calm?  Did you feel anything different at all?
     If not, it's fine.  If you were expecting heavenly reassurance, you severely overestimate what I'm able to do through my words.  Was it cold?  Was it hot?  Was the weather less than satisfactory, or was it absolutely perfect?  Did you notice if there was wind?
     You are going to be just fine.  I know that life sometimes seems like more than we could ever handle alone--but that's exactly why we did this rather strange exercise.  You're not alone.  You are never alone.  You have your friends.  And if there's no person whom you can feel you can turn to, then there's a song that you can find strength and comfort in.  There's an entire world out there, and you can only see so much of it.  But no matter where you are, you're looking at the same sky I am--it's just a different part.
     There is no end to the amount of good that's in this world.  What's more, there's no end to the amount of good that's in you.  Don't you know that you're the most wonderful human being there is?  I can say that with full confidence because it's completely true.  Don't you ever sell yourself short.  You have a wealth of potential and power within you, and if you ever truly tapped into it, the very earth itself would tremble at your being.
     You are loved.  You are so loved.  Even if it doesn't come from the people who should be showing you the utmost love, it comes from someone.  If you can't think of anyone on this planet who cares about you, think of me.  I promise that I do.
     You are priceless.  There is no amount of money that could pay for everything that you have to offer.  Don't ever put a discount on that price, and don't ever accept anything less for payment.  Ever, ever, ever.
     You have talent.  You have infinite worth.  You are worth walking through a storm for.  You are worth fighting down to the last breath for.
     And you have the power to change the world.
     There is nothing--nothing--that can truly stop you from doing whatever it takes to make this world that much more bearable to live in.
     And I'm not saying that you have to eradicate diseases or anything of the sort--all I'm saying is that you have the complete capability to add drops of light to this increasingly dark world.
     So, look over at your burden, right where you left it.  Does it still daunt you to pick it up?  It shouldn't.  If you weren't strong enough to carry it, you would not be asked to.  I know that with all my heart.
     All right.  Pick up your burden again, but don't let its weight bother you.  Let's a deep breath of fresh, renewed air, and together step out into the wonders that this world has to offer us.  Just promise me that you'll keep holding on.
     "So count your blessings every day.  It makes the monsters go away.  And everything will be okay.
     "You are not alone.  You are right at home.  Goodnight."

A Season of Seasons

     I can't remember the last time I was this excited for autumn.  I don't know if it's because this summer was just absolutely dreadful or what, but I am honestly reveling in every heat-free moment.
     But no matter how hot summer gets, at least it's not spring.
     Call me crazy (or a heathen), but I absolutely hate spring.  Hate it, hate it, hate it.  I hate that it starts warming up, I hate that weeds start returning from H-E-double hockey sticks, I hate that everyone associates it with romance.
     But most of all, I get terrible hay fever during the spring.  TERRIBLE.  My nose gets super runny/stuffed up, and I use so many tissues that it ends up hurting my poor nose.  My eyes are either super dry or tearing up.  My ears get plugged and feel sticky and wet, especially in the morning.
     Death.  Spring is death.
     Summer is little better.  I feel fine, but I absolutely despise anything warmer than, say, seventy-five degrees.  Mind you, I live in Utah--summer gets distinctly hotter than that.  I hate the heat.  It's uncomfortable, it's stupid, it's pointless, it's inconvenient.  And when the wind shows up, it's at the worst times, like when it's cloudy or sprinkling lightly--which are times when we're cooling down enough as it is and don't need wind.
     I hate summer.
     And I don't understand people who consider summer a romantic time of the year either--you're too sweaty and uncomfortable and bitter.
     Autumn and winter, on the other hand, are glorious times of the year.  Like, there's real air to breathe.  It's not saturated with pollen or devil's breath.  And everything just looks so beautiful, and everything has that feel about it--like everything is taking a turn for the better.
     And as for the romance, I've always found winter far more romantic because you have to really seek for warmth.
     You're welcome.
     I don't know if you've realized it, but October has a certain smell in the air.  Like, it's something that I smell and think "October," not just autumn.  I thought I was just insane until last week, when I stepped out of the car and said, "It smells like October out here!" and my sister agreed with me almost immediately.
     And winter is just a wonderful season.  The only downsides are: 1) I already hate having my hair wet, but a freezing December morning makes that even worse, 2) I have a persistent cough that nearly kills me (I didn't realize it happened every year until my parents pointed it out), and 3) my bedroom seems to have issues with heating properly.  It's nothing serious, but it's very apparent that I have the coldest room in the house.
     Other than that, though, winter is a marvelous--and very underappreciated--time of year.
     Anyway.  That's my spiel on seasons.
     "So count your blessings every day.  It makes the monsters go away.  And everything will be okay.
     "You are not alone.  You are right at home.  Goodnight."

Look How Far We've (Well, I've) Come

     I just had a really weird experience.
     I was just sitting here.  It was probably a little after 9:30.  There was a pen and a piece of paper I'd been using earlier (for nothing important), and for some reason, I wanted to write down all my schedules since seventh grade.  If you know me, you know that that's the sort of thing I like to do.
     So I did.  I wrote down the class name and the teacher.  And as I was doing it, I almost felt like I could see myself growing and developing and learning.  It just felt weird.  The song I've kept on loop probably didn't help ("Light in the Hallway" by Pentatonix).
     Five years ago.  I started seventh grade five years ago.  That feels so impossible.  I just can't believe how much has changed since then.
     I'm more confident in myself--but at the same time, also a little less.  I mean, five years ago, if you had told me I'd try out for Madrigals my junior year, I would have laughed...and probably cried because of unnecessary stress.  Simultaneously, five years ago, I was totally fine trying out for a solo--in fact, I daresay I almost liked it.  Now-a-days?  Ha.  Ha ha.  Ha ha ha.  {sobs heavily}
     Five years ago, I rarely ever answered questions in class.  Now, I'm a lot better with it in most of my classes (emphasis on most).
     English has never really been the same for me after leaving Bennion.  I still love it, but it's just different.
     Man, five years ago, I was playing the flute in cadet band.  I was learning the very basics of cooking, sewing, woodshop, technology, and business in CTE.  I was beginning science, English, and math, and I was in Utah studies.  I was in reading and writing.  I started choir.  I wanted to die in P.E.  I breezed through keyboarding.
     And then four years ago, I continued learning about cooking and sewing and even some child development and stuff in FACS.  I better befriended Bailey (try saying that five times fast) in math.  I discovered the absolute worst class I would ever take in U.S. history.  I continued with choir and strengthened my friendships with Alida and Payton.  I learned of my dislike yet morbid interest in health class.  I continued to want to die in P.E.  I found a new sort of sanctuary in English.  I found a weird source of comfort from science (it's a little less than glamorous, so I won't share--nothing too strange).  I learned of my love for all things secretarial while as an office assistant in the counseling center.  I still continued to dislike art, but learned that I absolutely love scratch art from my first (and only) art class.  I discovered that I actually don't want to be in acting and such when I took theatre.
     Three years ago, then...oh man.  Arguably the best nine months of my life.  I started knocking off credits with computer tech.  I took my first AP class (human geography).  I continued to hate math.  I had my first year of seminary and loved every bit of it.  I took (and totally rocked, I think) food and nutrition.  I took my second year of mixed chorus and loved it.  I loved English even more than I did in eighth grade.  I took my first high school science class (biology).  I actually didn't want to die in P.E. this time around (I still thought I was going to, but I didn't want to).  I continued unknowingly preparing myself for my future job by being an office assistant in the counseling center again.  I grew so close to my friends and some of my teachers, and I just had fun.  If I had the chance to go back and do it all over again, I'd take it in a heartbeat.
     Two years ago sucked.  Most of tenth grade majorly sucked.  I went back to wanting to die in Fitness for Life...and AP World History...and math...  Chemistry wasn't my favorite, but I made a friend I definitely never expected to make.  Seminary was utterly and completely my lifeline for a while.  I honestly don't know if I would've made it through okay without seminary (I don't mean that I would've done anything drastic, but I don't think I would've made it through as well as I did).  English took a long time to get used to--a long time.  So did choir.  Spanish wasn't necessarily a "lifeline," but it definitely kept a smile on my face.  Taking health again reminded me of why I'm grateful for my standards and beliefs, that's for dang sure.  I grew close to a couple teachers--one that I never would have expected to grow close to.
     One year ago seems like ages.  Was I really taking food and nutrition, AP U.S. history, my last year of standard math, AP English, physics, and social dance, only a year ago?  Was I really falling even more in love with Spanish only a year ago?  Was I really unsettled by the fact that seminary didn't need to be my lifesaver anymore only a year ago?  Was I really starting concert choir and questioning whether or not I should have tried out for Graces only a year ago?
     Did I really start this blog a year ago?
     Now, I'm taking AP Literature, AP Statistics, Madrigals, Spanish 4 (I got to skip Spanish 3, but that's a whole other story), Italian 1 (taught by my Spanish 1 & 2 teacher), Concert Choir, Drivers Ed (puke), and Seminary.  I'm on seminary council.  My sister has started high school.  I love it and hate it all at once, but...I think that the love side is going to win.
     "So count your blessings every day.  It makes the monsters go away.  And everything will be okay.
     "You are not alone.  You are right at home.  Goodnight."
     And I think that's going to be my new sign off.  Cool?  Cool.

A Catharsis

     I think I'm going to be okay.  I'm going to put that out there right now.
     You remember me telling you about Drew?  He's gotten worse.  Read his dad's blog (jeffreyolsen.com) if you're interested because I honestly do not have the heart to share it any more than I already have.  Don't worry, he's still alive.
     The weird thing is, I feel more at peace than I did three weeks ago.  Like, I'll hear about a new development, and I just kind of shrug it off and say, "Eh.  He's going to be fine."  I don't know if I've just convinced myself, or if my brain is physically preventing me from thinking otherwise, or if it's really God's assurance.
     But I almost don't want to feel so casual about it.  It seems almost disrespectful in a way to just brush off his medical condition and say that, "Well, he's going to be okay."  And I'm not saying I'm not worried about him--I definitely am--but it's kind of been pushed to the back of my mind now, and I feel like that's not right.  I care about Drew.  For a couple weeks, worry for him filled almost every waking thought.  Now?  I think about him a lot, but I can also focus on other things too.
     But see, when I say it that way, it sounds like it's totally okay for me to have backed off a bit and be a little more chill about it.  I mean, I still want to cry every time I hear/see an update, but I don't just start crying out of nowhere.  I don't know, I just really don't know.  I want to be as worried as I was, but I also don't want it to consume me anymore either.  I'm so confused.
     Then, while trying to gather these thoughts, I opened my email and saw one from a survey website with the subject, "Don't be silenced, tell us what you really think."  And out of nowhere, every ounce of me exploded.  I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to run away, I wanted to pound my fists into the floor, I wanted to kick, I wanted to pray, I wanted to just get away.  But most of all, I wanted to write.  So I did.
     And for another second, I thought I was about to start ranting to God, asking why He would allow something like this to happen to someone I care about so much.  I thought I was about to let every selfish thought within me burst out just to make me feel better.  I thought I was ready to cry and blame God for not caring and angrily try to confront Him.  And I almost wanted to.
     But I couldn't.
     The thoughts formed.  I felt almost like something was telling me, "This is what you should be saying.  You're grieving.  It doesn't matter what you say right now."  But that's not true.  That is very much not true.
     The fact that I'm grieving and in pain and hurting and frustrated and scared makes everything I say and do matter.  Everything.  These are the very moments that will define me later in life.  When trials occur, do I lash out at God, or do I come to Him earnestly, praying with everything I have for His comfort and peace and protection and healing?
     And besides, this isn't about me.  Not one bit.  There are plenty of other people out there who are even more concerned and in pain than I will ever be for Drew, no matter how close we've become.  He has his family, friends he's had for years, ward members, a girlfriend.  It would be unfair for me to ask God, "Why are You doing this to me?  Why would it even occur to You to come this close to taking him away from me?"  That's not how this works at all.
     I've seen firsthand that this is affecting people all over, and not even people who know Drew.  There are so many people who are learning from this experience.  I just happen to be one of them.
     So, while my mind was filled with a pretend red-hot rage, trying to be angry at God because that seems to be what everyone does when things like this happen, the rest of me put out the fire that never existed.  I asked the questions aimlessly, and I answered them myself in the most matter-of-fact tone I could ever imagine.  (The Holy Ghost will bring all things to your remembrance--keep that in mind, readers.)
     Why would God do this?  I can't give specifics, but we aren't placed on this earth to live lives of sunshine and gold.  There has to be gloom and dirt mixed in there so that we can learn and grow and develop and come to rely on our Heavenly Father and our Savior, Jesus Christ.
     Why is this happening to Drew?  I don't think it was random.  I don't think God looked down and saw Drew and thought, "Okay, let's give him FIRES."  And He definitely didn't look at me and think, "All right, let's put her friend in the hospital."  He has a bigger plan than that.  I know that for certain.  As previously stated, we have to suffer through things in this life.  And maybe he's not even the one to learn from it.  Like I said, this is affecting a whole lot of people.
     Yes, my heart aches for Drew.  Yes, I am terrified that he's going to die.
     And no, I am not happy about it.
     But, I am happy.  I have a knowledge of God's eternal plan for us, and I know that Drew's family has that same knowledge and those same blessings.  Because of this, I firmly believe that he's going to be all right, no matter the outcome.  And you may think whatever you'd like--that I'm kidding myself, that I'm only fantasizing, that I'm willing to believe anything that's good news.
     Well, I'd rather live believing that there is more to this life than what's here than live with the acceptance that everything happens by chance and contributes to absolutely no outcome.
     And even if it wasn't meant for me, I know that I have learned more than I could have ever imagined through this experience.
     Just get better, Drew.
     I hope your day is as awesome as you.

Praying for My Friend

     Hey guys.  I know this is probably borderline traitorous of me, but my very first blog of the summer is going to be quite a bit of a downer.  Trust me, I'm not thrilled about it either.
     Last summer, at my job, I was assigned to work double shifts every Saturday.  Yeah, it basically sucked.  I mean, I eventually got used to it, but I still would've rather not had to deal with them.
     Really, though, the only reason I became okay with them was because I was not the only person who had to work them.  Drew and I were hired at about the same time and had become close acquaintances.
     We also worked a shift together on Wednesday nights at the south entrance, where it was just the two of us.  Between the double shifts every week and these ones just to ourselves every Wednesday, we became pretty close friends.  He became one of my favorite coworkers, if not my absolute favorite.
     After the summer, we didn't really work any shifts together, except for when we'd pick others' up on occasion.  But this almost didn't affect our friendship at all because it made our reunions all the sweeter (at least on my end).  And besides, we had inservice meetings where we saw each other, and we'd often walk out of the building together, just catching up with each other.  I truly began to value him as a real friend, not just a "Well, we're pretty close as coworkers, so I guess we're friends" type of mentality.  (Again, I don't know how much of this he returned.  Keep that in mind.)
     Thankfully, with the summer season coming around again, I knew that schedules would be changing a lot, and it was very likely that we would finally have shifts together again.  After the inservice meeting where we received our summer schedules, we talked about them with each other.  We were thrilled to discover that we'd work together on Mondays, and then see each other for a few moments on Wednesdays and Fridays (since one of us would be at the south entrance while the other would be at the front).  I made a comment about how we'd finally be really working with each other again, and he responded with an enthusiastic "Finally!"  He could not have replied better.
     So, the summer started, and we even got to work a couple south entrance shifts together, since some of them needed to be picked up.  It almost felt like our friendship hadn't been put on hold at all.  Everything was back to the way it was--helping each other out, conversing about things outside of work, teasing each other, watching random (and often weird) videos when it wasn't busy.
     During one of these south entrance shifts (it was a Thursday), after we'd been talking for awhile, I mentioned that I considered him to be my favorite coworker.  Later, after watching a set of particularly strange YouTube videos, Drew laughed and said, "See, Odessa, this is why you're my favorite.  There is no one else here I could show things like this to."
     We continued to crack jokes together.  For example, Drew had bad allergies one day, but I wasn't affected at all (I usually take one sniff of pollinated air and nearly die).  He wondered why I wasn't sniffling too.  I said, "Probably righteousness."  Indignantly, he said, "Righte--shut up!"  We both laughed pretty hard.  That's just how our bantering went.  We knew it was all in joking.
     Over most of the rest of June, we talked and laughed during our shifts, just enjoying working together like we always had.
     Then it shattered right before my eyes, and I didn't even know it until it was too late.
     It was two weeks ago on Monday, June 26.  I came into work, as usual.  Drew was there, as usual.  He seemed a little lackluster and I asked if he was all right.  He said that he was okay, but he had a virus and a fever.  I encouraged him to sit back and let us handle the job, but he assured me that he was fine, that he'd been to the doctor's and everything and they said he'd be okay.
     On Wednesday, I only saw him for a few brief moments, as I was heading up to the south entrance.  I asked him if he was doing okay, and he said he was feeling better.
     Then, on Thursday, while counting the tills with my coworker and friend Kaylee, another coworker came rushing back and told her that Drew's dad was on the line and that they were taking him to the hospital.  His symptoms had worsened, so they decided to take him in.  We were worried about him, but we figured, "Well, his fever just probably got too high.  It's nothing to worry about."
     It turns out, it was everything to worry about.
     I don't want to post invalid information, so I won't go into detail on what the medical condition is.  If you're interested, Drew's dad has a blog where he posted an update (go to jeffreyolsen.com and go to the blog page).
     I'm posting my feelings on this issue.  There are many.  With each new event, I feel my stomach sink deeper and a cold hand grab at my heart.  He's in a coma, and it sounds to me like he'll either fully recover or die.
     And I am so scared that it's going to be the latter.
     I've cried myself to sleep over this.  Sometimes, I feel physically sick because I'm so worried about him.  One of my best friends in the world could literally die.  I am not prepared for that--not one bit.
     But, no matter what happens, I'm going to have faith.  I'm going to have faith in my Heavenly Father and His plan.  I know--I know--that He doesn't just take people from our lives for the fun of it.  If it's Drew's time to go, then there is a reason for it.  But if there's more for him to do here on earth, He will heal him and provide him with the means to carry out his work, just like He's done for all of us.
     This knowledge doesn't make it easy at all.  But it makes it bearable.  Knowing that, no matter what, Drew is going to be okay and taken care of--whether he lives or dies--means more to me than anything.  I just want him to be all right.  I want him to recover.  I want everything to go back to the way it was, where we lived in a blissful ignorance of the pain that would soon become nearly overwhelming.
     I love Drew, and I'm praying fervently that he recovers.  I'm praying for his family, because I cannot even fathom what they must be going through. If it's this hard for me, it must be at least a thousand times more so for them.  I'm praying for his friends, who are worried sick for him.
     I'll keep you updated as much as I can.
     I hope your day is as awesome as you.